


Public Enemies

by castielslovesong



Series: A Pirates Life For Us [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adventure, Boats, Captain Winchester, Cas is still, Character is dead, Dean aint having none of yer shit, Emotional Constipation, Emotional Hurt, Fatherly Bobby Singer, Hurt/Comfort, Job - Freeform, Lots of it, M/M, Pirates, Sass, Self-Loathing Dean, Slavery, The Impala - Freeform, Threats, Trust Issues, erm, not sure, saving people, sword fight, who his real friends are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 06:35:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1459543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielslovesong/pseuds/castielslovesong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the search for Anna, they meet a guy called Garth. It's all Bobby's fault really; he definitely didn't warn that Garth was a hugger. And was, well, weird in general.</p><p>Anyway, no one get's picky over saving a shipment of people. And threatening the hell out of some douchbags. </p><p>Only, when they finally find her, will she be able to give them the answers to their questions?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Public Enemies

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO COMMENTED...
> 
> Seriously, I love you all. *Sends love through screen*
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope it's... good?
> 
> Next Update: Wednesday/Thursday (depends on my other fics (: )

A week or so passed.

The bruises had faded and the initial shock of John Winchester’s death, even the devastatingly heroic and sad brother’s story, had settled. Dean had been drinking more, going out to the Impala and fixing holes, replacing beams, restocking the cabins. His coping mechanism wasn’t healthy; Sam had tried to talk to him more than once. Unfortunately, if you know the man, you will know exactly how stubborn he is – more than that, he has been an independent person since he was 4 years old.

And maybe that is what stings.

Last time he had seen his Dad before he disappeared (again) John had said one of the most sentimental things Dean had ever heard come out of his mouth.

He thanked Dean, for being there for him and Sammy. Dean hadn’t wanted his thanks. It was his job to look after his family. He most definitely didn’t shed a tear at the thought of his Dad finally being proud of him...

Slamming his fist into the newly placed plank, Dean sighed. The pain, at least, gave him something else to focus on. Physical pain, none of this emotional crap, can be dealt with. No, he can shove all of those Daddy feels back in his man box. He survived Hell without him; he can survive this.

 

After a while, Bobby came out to find him. Dean inwardly smiled to himself. He loved Bobby, like a father. He _wasn’t_ his father, but he God damn might as well be.

“Hey Bobby.”

“How you holdin’ up, boy?” He asked gruffly. Yeah, it’s not just Winchester’s who suffer from emotional constipation.

“Fine Bobby, you know me, I’ll muddle through.” Swigging at the bottle of Jack that accompanied him to the Impala’s deck, he shot a glance at Bobby. He had his ‘I don’t believe you Princess’ face on. (It was the Bobby version of the Bitchface).

“Uh huh. Well you don’t look fine,” He held his hand up to stop Dean’s weak protest, “But I ain’t gunna sit here and watch you mope.” Pausing, an expression akin to uncertainty crossed the older man’s features. “You heard of a guy called Garth Fitzgerald?”

Dean snorted, “No. Should I?”

“Don’t get prissy, he got a hit on another one of Cas’ ex-Heaven buddies.”

That perked Dean up. He needed a job, not as a distraction. He was totally fine.

**_Oh shut up._ **

“What’s the catch?”

“Do there gotta be one?” Bobby shifted beside him. Oh yeah, there was a catch.

“Bobby-“

“Just one job. You have to do the job before he’s prepared to tell you anything. I’m afraid I don’t know how helpful he’s gunna be, but his information is usually good. The trail for Gabriel’s cold anyway-“

“You givin’ me the sales pitch Bobby? You must really want me gone.” There was mirth in his tone however the cold stab of self-loathing was underlying. He knew how much of a pain in the ass he was; he always ended up dragging his family down with him.

“Idjit. You better go round up the horde; Ellen’s been bugging me to get them out of the damned Roadhouse for days.”

Dean pushed himself up and brushed the dust from his pants. “Great, I’ll grab Cas and meet you with Dr Badass.”

 

Cas stood beside Dean, peering down at the map before them with a renewed intensity. This man, Garth, may have a lead on Anna. Although Castiel would never dare to admit it back home... Anna had been his favourite crew member. She was his superior, but made good judgement calls and was kind. It was after her example, disobeying, he ended up following.

The map was littered in different coloured tacks, of which he was only just starting to understand the meaning of.

_“I want everything, Castiel. Michael will reward you greatly for your service.”_

_“Why?”_

_“You do not_ ever _question why, Castiel! It is from your superior, it is therefore just.”_

He shivered. Zachariah, closely followed by Uriel, was his least favourite member of the Garrison. Knowing now what he did not know then, the true motive of Michael’s plans, he was somewhat determined to do his job.

As good as Hunters and others like them were doing, there was a better way to end all this. He frowned. There was an uncomfortable tug in his chest. Betrayal. Not his own... No. What he was going to do to others.

The dark blue, covering almost all of the coastlines of the major landmasses on the Earth, represented shipment points. Ports that dealt in goods, drugs and weaponry.

The black showed human shipment areas.

The red, white and yellow, had not yet come up on a job.  Absently, he wondered if the journal would explicate.

“What does he actually want us to do then?”

Cas’ attention shifted to Dean, leaning on the table in front of him, sweaty grey shirt clinging to his frame beneath the long sleeved, deep green overcoat that infinitely brightened his eyes. It took all the will power at his disposal not to be closer, to touch any part of him.

Suddenly, he blinked. _Emotions are windows to doubt._

That’s what he was experiencing though, wasn’t it? A rapid swelling of emotion in his chest... Bothersome.

“All you gotta do is intercept the shipment, and bring the passengers in the hold back to shore. He doesn’t care what you do with the others.”

“Well doesn’t that sound simple.”

For a moment, Cas watched as the cogs and wheels turned in Dean’s mind. It was intoxicating, the way Dean’s eyes zoned onto something, while his jaw ticked and mind worked through what Bobby had said. This was why he was a leader.  

“As long as their ship is smaller than baby, we shouldn’t have any trouble.”

And that was it. A shrug and he was pushing out of the door, hand catching Cas’ own, to go into the bar. Only, a moose of a roadblock stopped them both in their tracks.

“Dean-“

“Save it Sammy. We got a lead.”

“I know but, don’t you think it’s a little soon to be heading back out there. I mean, what with Dad go-“

“I mean it Sam. I’m good. You’re the one that wants us to sit down and cry about it.”

“Don’t you want to cry about it?”

Dean sighed, letting go of Cas’ hand to wipe it across his brow. “Sam, we’ve been through this.”

“You two bicker like an old married couple.” Came a voice from behind them. Dean turned to snort a laugh, and then pointed an accusing finger at his younger brother.

“No, cos married people can just _leave_ one another. Me and him? We’re more like Watson and Holmes.”

“It’s Sherlock and Watson, jerk.”

Rolling his eyes and shaking his head, he gave Bobby a long suffering look. “See.”

With another shake of his head, Dean pushed past Sam and went to Bobby’s, likely to change and gather final supplies for their trip. They were headed to the mainland, USA. Cas took a seat at the bar, nodding his head at Ellen for a drink (it is fascinating the effect of living with pirates) and almost missed Sam’s snide comment made under his breath.

“If anyone’s married, it’s you and Cas bro.”

He didn’t think he was meant to hear, but he turned his head anyway to see the genuine smile of Sam’s face; another piece of his composure folded.

Speaking of, he hadn’t seen the journal in days now. If he was honest, this trip would be the perfect opportunity to make the drop.

Shaken from his thoughts by Dean’s bellowing voice, he downed the hard liquid in his glass, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and shrugged his trench coat higher on his shoulders.

 

The sea was calm compared to what they were used to. Still, the wind filled the sails and the waves chopped at the Impala’s sides, aiding them in their narrow pursuit. Dean had been right to say that as long as their vessel was larger no problem would be had, until the shipping boat turned into rockier shores. They were, Heaven help them, trying to moor the Hunter’s on the unforgiving landscape close to the Caribbean islands. Sharp rocks jutted out from the cliffs and the waves crashed mercilessly against the rock.

May God help any man who dared try to hurt baby.

Due to Dean’s skill behind the wheel, and some serious manoeuvring of the sails by the crew, they managed to push the smaller boat back out into open waters. They hadn’t even fully pulled up beside it when Dean watched as Cas leapt, gracefully enough to make Dean’s brain short circuit from the way Cas’ arms flared out, his knees rising up, in the most offensive position he’d ever seen, to roll completely unharmed on the deck and start fighting.

Half of the crew followed suit to join in the battle. Swords clashed and shouts were hollered between the sides. The other half secured the rope ladders, allowing for an easy transition back to the deck of the Impala.

“Jo, Charlie, Kevin, on my left.” Dean shouted, indicating to the door leading below deck.

His eyes scanned the area while the rest of the crew forced the volatile men into the centre of the ship, below the mast. Stopping at Cas, pinned to a wall by an enormous looking man. He strode over, stepping without care to the line of bodies obviously taken down by Cas, pressing the sharp tip of his blade to the man’s throat, then heaving him back, to fall in line with the others. Helping Cas to his feet, his eyes betrayed his concern for a second, before he turned on his heel to the Captain of the ship, who had been spewing abuse at him the whole time.

“Cram it with walnuts ugly!” Threateningly, he held the sword to his throat, silencing him instantly. He checked the angry looking crew behind him, unarmed and scowling, so he threw them a sarcastic grin.

“Vik, Ash, go check on the ladies would ya?”

As he said it, a disgruntled, “Hey!” from Kevin was sounded as his footsteps ran up the wooden stairs. “I am not a lady.”

“Sure do whine like one though!” Ash hooted.

The crew laughed as Jo returned to deck, punched Ash in the arm saying with a satisfied smirk as he howled in pain, “Who’s whining now? Huh?”

“Jo stop beating up my crew, it’s these assholes you oughta be hitting.” The Captain mumbled something against the cool of his blade. “What was that asshat?”

“I said, you’re dead, _Winchester._ ”

Dean scraped the sword upwards, cutting too close to the skin, then dropped his hand down, bringing back to his side. “You know what pal, you aren’t the first person to say that to me, and you definitely won’t be the last.”

“We need to leave.” Cas growled.

Turning to watch as his crew helped the passengers up the rope ladders, Dean acknowledged Cas with a nod. He began to walk away, allowing Chuck and Becky to wrap them in lengths of rope, holding them taut against the mast, when the Captain said something else:

“You and your dumb little crew. If not me, then it will be the Feds, or Heaven. They’ll all suffer _Dean_ , all because of y-“

He whirled, launching the blade he keeps in his sleeve straight at the man’s head. The wood cracked. His crew laughed at the expression on his face, the white plumage of feathers trapped beneath the knifes blade above his head.

“You take care of yourself, dickhead. Or the next time, I won’t miss.”

 

Garth, Cas discovered, was a hugger.

No really, he hugged everyone. Each of the crew, in turn.

“Thank you so much Dean. It should never of happened anyway, I was just about to take the guy out when I found out he was moving the shipment early.” Behind him, the men, women and children huddled on benches, holding bottles of what was most likely beer as they leant on each other. They had come unfathomably close to slavery for good.

Dean breathed out as Garth let go. “No worries man, it’s my job. Now, Bobby said you have something on a friend of mine. Anna Milton?”

Cas stood closer to them, wanting to hear anything and everything about what information Garth had.

“Yeah, so you know I have my fingers in the Federation pie, and well, they link up to the hospitals and stuff.” He paused, seeing Dean’s expression before continuing at an increased pace, “But you don’t want to know that. She was admitted into a mental institution, still there as far as I know.”

The rest of what Garth was saying zoned out. A mental institution? Those places were expensive... The only way that would be possible is if – no. His brothers wouldn’t... Would they?

Massaging his temples, he tried to think about how, and why, Anna would be in the hospital. It didn’t add up. Add to that the fact that Dean was literally keeping the journal on his person; Cas could feel a monster of a headache dredging it’s way through his skull.

“Come on Spock, you can have a meltdown later.”

 _Who in God’s creation is Spock?_ He wanted to say, but again, his mind was very much in a different place.

 

There was no way. His whole body _itched_ because of the fancy, albeit worn, suit he'd been forced into. Really, the things he does...

Dean could blag his way past any doctor, which he and Cas had done, leaving the crew in a bar near Garth’s place, however, so life would like to put it, that was not his biggest problem. He stood, next to a stoic Cas, as the doctor drew the cover back.

She lay on the table, long red hair bleached against the steel. The lighting was low, illuminating her in a dark hue. A faint splatter of blood had soaked through her gown, around a spear sized wound.  

“What happened?”

“Suicide.” The doctor was scrutinising them both over his glasses. “Who did you say you were again?”

Cas was about to answer when Dean pulled him back, “Leaving.”

Once outside the building they sat down on a bench across the grass. It didn’t have the same texture as sand or the sea. It didn’t even smell the same.

“Something doesn’t seem right.”

“Didn’t peg your sister for biting the dust like that.”

“It was murder.” Cas sighed. Subconsciously, Dean grabbed his hand, squeezed gently and let go.

“Yeah, everyone seems to be into it these days.”

They stayed there, the two of them, observing a somewhat normal world, in borrowed clothes, discussing in hushed tones, the who and the why, and the what the hell are we going to do next?

 

A question that only seemed to grow larger for Castiel.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, quite a few references in here... On my left, I couldn't resist CA. Thanks again for reading umu


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